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Paris Hilton

Wal-mart... do they like make walls there?

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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.


II.

[...] Read more

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Peanut Butter Conspiracy

By: jimmy buffett
1973
Lookin back at my hard luck days
I really do have to laugh
Workin in a dive for twenty six dollars
Spendin it all on grass
We were hungry hard-luck heroes
Tryin just to stay alive
Wed go down to the corner grocery
This is how wed survive
Chorus:
Whos gonna steal the peanut butter
Ill get the can of sardines
Runnin up and down the aisle of the mini mart
Stickin food in our jeans
We never took more than we could eat
There was plenty left on the rack
We all swore if we ever got rich
We would pay the mini mart back
Yes sir! yes sir!
We would pay the mini mart back
It was a two man operation
Had it all down on a note
Ricky would watch that big round mirror
And Id fill up my coat
Then wed head for the check-out aisle
With a lemon and a bottle of beer
Into the car, got to make it on home
Suppertimes getting near
Chorus:
So whos gonna steal the peanut butter
Ill get the can of sardines
Runnin up and down the aisle of the mini mart
Stickin food in our jeans
Never took more than we could eat
There was plenty left on the rack
We all swore if we ever got rich
We would pay the mini mart back
Yes sir! yes sir!
We would pay the mini mart back
I guess every good picker has had some hard times
I sure had my share
Its really kinda funny to laugh at em now
But I dont want to go back there
So every now and then when Im in the grocery
Ill take a little but not much
cause you never know when those hard timesll hitcha
And I dont want to lose my touch
Chorus:
So whos gonna steal the peanut butter

[...] Read more

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Old Spookses' Pass

I.
WE'D camped that night on Yaller Bull Flat,--
Thar was Possum Billy, an' Tom, an' me.
Right smart at throwin' a lariat
Was them two fellers, as ever I see;
An' for ridin' a broncho, or argyin' squar
With the devil roll'd up in the hide of a mule,
Them two fellers that camp'd with me thar
Would hev made an' or'nary feller a fool.
II.
Fur argyfyin' in any way,
Thet hed to be argy'd with sinew an' bone,
I never see'd fellers could argy like them;
But just right har I will hev to own
Thet whar brains come in in the game of life,
They held the poorest keerds in the lot;
An' when hands was shown, some other chap
Rak'd in the hull of the blamed old pot!
III.
We was short of hands, the herd was large,
An' watch an' watch we divided the night;
We could hear the coyotes howl an' whine,
But the darned critters kept out of sight
Of the camp-fire blazin'; an' now an' then
Thar cum a rustle an' sort of rush--
A rattle a-sneakin' away from the blaze,
Thro' the rattlin', cracklin' grey sage bush.
IV.
We'd chanc'd that night on a pootyish lot,
With a tol'ble show of tall, sweet grass--
We was takin' Speredo's drove across
The Rockies, by way of "Old Spookses' Pass"--
An' a mite of a creek went crinklin' down,
Like a "pocket" bust in the rocks overhead,
Consid'able shrunk, by the summer drought,
To a silver streak in its gravelly bed.
V.
'Twas a fairish spot fur to camp a' night;
An' chipper I felt, tho' sort of skeer'd
That them two cowboys with only me,
Couldn't boss three thousand head of a herd.
I took the fust of the watch myself;
An' as the red sun down the mountains sprang,
I roll'd a fresh quid, an' got on the back
Of my peart leetle chunk of a tough mustang.
VI.
An' Possum Billy was sleepin' sound
Es only a cowboy knows how to sleep;
An' Tommy's snores would hev made a old
Buffalo bull feel kind o' cheap.

[...] Read more

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Walls

Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.

Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.

Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.

Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.

Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.

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Was Kermit a Vegen?

Chasity Erbaugh has had a sight to be seen.
She had purchased frozen green beans at the Wal-Mart in Tyler, Texas.
A Great Value Brand, by name, but appeared to be a Surely Shock Brand,
When she brought it home.
After microwaving the frozen green beans to feed her children,
She noticed peculiar that didn’t look like bean,
Chasity came across a legless frog that was green.
Catfish and frog legs are very popular in local restaurants around here,
And China too!
Maybe the green beans and the processing of frog legs were at the same location?
Anyway, was this frog related to Kermit? Was he a vegen?
Chasity brought this up to the management of her local Wal-Mart,
They, in turn, delightfully handed a $1.00 coupon off her next bag of frozen green beans.
How thoughtful is that?
How so disgusting?
So Wal-Mart,
The company is thinking about getting into the marriage wedding and reception business,
After which, the couple will have kids to be poisoned by the lead content in toys,
Manufactured in China,
Most likely the couple will have pet dog, which can poisoned by the dog food,
That was made in China.
To the human part, Wal-Mart will provide a clinic for getting rid of illness.
Eye doctors, pretty soon dentists, and maybe vets.
From cradle to the grave, what fun, what bliss.

8-17-09

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Everythings Changed

(richie mcdonald/paul nelson/larry boone)
Funny you should show up after all of these years
Yeah things sure have changed around here
Seen a lot of strangers since they put that interstate through
No this aint the same town that we once knew
They put up a plant where we used to park
That ol drive-ins a new wal-mart
The caf? is closed where our names were carved on that corner booth
Yeah, everythings changed except for the way I feel about you
That westbound to santa fe dont stop here anymore
You were one of the last to get on board
That street that we grew up on you wouldnt recognize
Girl nothings been the same since you said good-bye
They put up a plant where we used to park
That ol drive-ins a new wal-mart
The caf? is closed where our names were carved on that corner booth
Yeah, everythings changed except for the way I feel about you
They put up a plant where we used to park
That ol drive-ins a new wal-mart
The caf? is closed where our names were carved on that corner booth
Everythings changed except for the way I feel about you
Yeah, everythings changed except for the way I feel about you

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April Ate

April 2012 is National Poetry MOnth
April Ate
Late for my own Funeral twice denied my citezen rights becoming blind online the power cord they sold me at wal mart is not the right kind for my machine is in need of a screen refused service and gouged hard a P C Outlet is a joke they must have seen me coming over worked and trying despiritdly to type between the cracks of Jesus on my broken LED screen it is almost hopeless unless eye get the right cord or a refund from Wal Mart nothing can be done quickly eye must ride like the wind to be free again the song video at least keeps playing in my mind as April Ate my time. The chord is made for a home computor a tower plugs in the monitor they simply got it wrong. Meanwhile there is a movie at the Bijou Eastern Theatre called the Western SKy is King it is in the Southern Hemisphere of the Northern Lighting is very dim. The Easter Holiday will not prevent me from most things that need to be procrasstinated then putt off the buss then the wal mart then back to the Alamo eye wish to see the pawn shop offerings and then prehaps the Movie iff its not raining in the Ampitheater Saint Anthony must be willing now to help me all these schedulings on a Holiday notwithstanding as eye vainly pen this ode to predestination people who help me only take from the things they need they seek the power and the edifice it all belongs in the pockets of the thieves there is only a few people who actually help me for me to have these things are mine to them it is still fine they fleece the innocent and dine my macho friend is two macho for eye think someday to get him in trouble he will be too macho to someone who is not the dog the little puppy is what he has called me for not fighting at the dropp of a hat it is not something to be enjoyed as they must think to wish to fight all the time yet he shows me only talking no bruises eye think he must think eye am not very macho in his eye think it fits my theme to be the little puppy dog is to be tied to all the living and it is better to be alive then dead a hero on Good FrYday dont you see it April Ate

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The Great Pig Story of the Tweed

“Hands off, old man!” the young man cried—
They stood beside the Tweed,
Where still the name of Murder Creek
Records some bloody deed.

The old man seized the hapless youth,
With frantic grasp and rough,
By what is popularly called
(But vulgarly) the scruff;

And shouted as he twirled him round,
And shook him to and fro,
“Was them consignments pigs? . . Great Scott!
Was them things pigs or no?”

Wild-eyed and gaunt, and grim he stood,
Beneath the scorching noon,—
Cantharides P. Roebuck, late
Of the steamboat Arakoon.

He was an ancient mariner,
A Yankee skipper he,
Whom winds of adverse destiny
Had blown across the sea;—

Whom hither still had Fate pursued,
And served with many a trick,
Till now he roamed the Tweed a one-
Idea'd lunatic;—

Whom all men shunned, for whosoe'er
Upon his beat might chance,
Was bound to hear his tale in each
Minutest circumstance.

A tale that haunted such as heard,
Nor left them night or day;
A torturing enigma, too,
That turned their wits astray;—
For ofttimes they, like him who told,
Would vaguely wandering go,
And cry, “Was them consignments pigs?
Was them things pigs or no?”

“Hands off!” again the young man cried.
“It's this way, boss, you see,

We've come a stretch of thirty mile,
Her uncle, her, an' me.

[...] Read more

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When The Walls Came Tumbling Down

On the first day of the first month in some distant year
The whole sky froze golden
Some said it was the aftermath of the radium bomb
While others told of a final retribution
A terrible revenge of the gods

But we understood the grand finale
Fulfillment of a prophecy told many years before
So all that was left was...

All the women were captured and chained
And national suicide was proclaimed
And New America fell to the ground
And all the children lay crippled and lame
But all the nations came together
In fear of the thought of the end
No more would we fight in the streets
No courage had we to defend

When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound

A blinding light the sun had died
A new moon took its place
Tidal waves and open graves the fate of the unhuman race
The city's heart no longer beats no pity have I left to lend
A sinner sits reciting Dylan it's now that I welcome the end

When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound

When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Everybody ran as they screamed at the sound
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
When the walls came tumbling down
Nobody made a sound

[...] Read more

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Walls Of Red Wing

Oh, the age of the inmates
I remember quite freely:
No younger than twelve,
No older n seventeen.
Thrown in like bandits
And cast off like criminals,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
From the dirty old mess hall
You march to the brick wall,
Too weary to talk
And too tired to sing.
Oh, its all afternoon
You remember your home town,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
Oh, the gates are cast iron
And the walls are barbed wire.
Stay far from the fence
With the lectricity sting.
And its keep down your head
And stay in your number,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
Oh, its fare thee well
To the deep hollow dungeon,
Farewell to the boardwalk
That takes you to the screen.
And farewell to the minutes
They threaten you with it,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
Its many a guard
That stands around smilin,
Holdin his club
Like he was a king.
Hopin to get you
Behind a wood pilin,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
The night aimed shadows
Through the crossbar windows,
And the wind punched hard
To make the wall-siding sing.
Its many a night I pretended to be a-sleepin,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
As the rain rattled heavy
On the bunk-house shingles,
And the sounds in the night,

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The Assembly Of Ladies

In Septembre, at the falling of the leef,
The fressh sesoun was al-togider doon,
And of the corn was gadered in the sheef;
In a gardyn, about twayn after noon,
Ther were ladyes walking, as was her wone,
Foure in nombre, as to my mynd doth falle,
And I the fifte, the simplest of hem alle.


Of gentilwomen fayre ther were also,
Disporting hem, everiche after her gyse,
In crosse-aleys walking, by two and two,
And some alone, after her fantasyes.
Thus occupyed we were in dyvers wyse;
And yet, in trouthe, we were not al alone;
Ther were knightës and squyers many one.


'Wherof I served?' oon of hem asked me;
I sayde ayein, as it fel in my thought,
'To walke about the mase, in certayntè,
As a woman that [of] nothing rought.'
He asked me ayein—'whom that I sought,
And of my colour why I was so pale?'
'Forsothe,' quod I, 'and therby lyth a tale.'


'That must me wite,' quod he, 'and that anon;
Tel on, let see, and make no tarying.'
'Abyd,' quod I, 'ye been a hasty oon,
I let you wite it is no litel thing.
But, for bicause ye have a greet longing
In your desyr, this proces for to here,
I shal you tel the playn of this matere.—


It happed thus, that, in an after-noon,
My felawship and I, by oon assent,
Whan al our other besinesse was doon,
To passe our tyme, into this mase we went,
And toke our wayes, eche after our entent;
Some went inward, and wend they had gon out,
Some stode amid, and loked al about.


And, sooth to say, some were ful fer behind,
And right anon as ferforth as the best;
Other ther were, so mased in her mind,
Al wayes were good for hem, bothe eest and west.
Thus went they forth, and had but litel rest;

[...] Read more

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Byron

Canto the Fourth

I.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times when many a subject land
Looked to the wingèd Lion’s marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!

II.

She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.

III.

In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone - but beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!

IV.

But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away -
The keystones of the arch! though all were o’er,
For us repeopled were the solitary shore.

V.

[...] Read more

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Ideas For Walls

So many things in my head, Ive always had them before
No reason to be upset, theyre just ideas for walls
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing, demanding that the nightlife be called the right life
Like putting paint on my feet & walking sideways in rows
My walls could be so complete, complete with patterns of toes
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing the left side, right side, which is the right side
Now-ideas
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
A little m for the mirror, a double u for the wall
To make things perfectly clear, a great big h in the hall
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing, demanding that the nightlife be called the right life
Is everybody confused? (no) Im making no sense at all
You want a room with a view you need ideas for walls
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing inside, outside, outside, right side
Inside, outside, which is the right side
Now -- ideas
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas
Theyre just ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls

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Wal-Mart doesn't really care about your faith. Wal-Mart cares if you have money to spend, and it is going to be as generic as possible in exploiting the holiday season for every buck it can make.

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A World Of One's Own

At the same time
Shakespeare’s sister,
Shakespeare’s brilliant,
pregnant, sister,
was killing herself
In London,
the North American Continent
was doing perfectly well
without her or her genius
or her brother’s genius
on the other side of the Atlantic.
Well, not perfectly well.
The Spanish were already making
a big mess of Mexico
and Central America.
A BIG mess.
But lots of things
were still going well
north of the border
that wasn’t yet there.
The glaciers
had obligingly melted away
thousands of years before
leaving a land
carpeted from coast to coast
with primeval forests,
sky-darkening legions
of migrating fowl,
undamned rivers,
teeming with fish,
coursing their way
to the sea,
and, of course,
hundreds of indigenous tribes
who had managed to live
there
thousands of years
without building
one Wal-Mart
or Super Wal-Mart.
All these beings
were expressing their genius
in a mindblowingly beautiful
ensemble production
without benefit
of pen and paper,
or proscenium arch,
without benefit
of admission
to the best universities,

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Lost In Wal-Mart

So... I was in one of those Wal-mart Super Stores
Just the other day
When in the middle of the hallway
I felt someone grab my fingers tight
I looked and there she was... a little child holding
With all her might

I saw her eyes big and brown
Somehow she pulled me to the ground
Now..what was a man...big as me suppose to do
So... I said... child... Can I help you..?

As she looked at me with big brown eyes
Her beauty and sadness... almost caused a great flood
And with her voice ready to cry
She ask... If'n...I'd seen her mommy?

Now has anybody ever had their heart fallout of their soul...?
Mine did... And I couldn't help but notice
Her knees.. Shaking... Like she was at the North Pole.
Now you... and me... and everyone knows...
Children aren't to talk to strangers...
Because we've all heard... how great... and terrible those..dangers!
But she still had hold...of my fingers

Well... at that same time I felt.. heard a voice in my head
Don't move.... this is where I should.. need.. to stand
I did... But I still raised up my left hand
Because.. I didn't... know what to do?
I felt like that child... back in first grade school!

So... I spoke with my voice really loud.
I said...this child's mommy is lost... (you see)
I have always been able to see when love needed my help!
But this time... I had never known how helpless..I felt!

I said...please..someone.. call the M.O.D.
Short for Manager on Duty.
Help me... Find the mommy of this little cutie
Well in a few moments through that crowd of people
This women... M.O.D. appeared
She knelt down and said..Oh.. Oh...you're such a little dear...
Held out her hands..said sweetie come-mere

Yet.. I knew what this child was thinking... because
She now clung to me
Her arm went tight.. around my knee
And in her fist part of my jean's

[...] Read more

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Play Froggy Mountain Dew Or The Kermit Generation

Miss Piggy and Kermit the Frog was on America’s Got Talent last night.
Personally, I enjoyed them a lot more than David Hasselhoff.
Kermit and his relatives are making a big splash on TV,
- and everywhere in sight.
First there was frog in frozen string beans purchased at a Wal-Mart,
Now there was ‘frog’ in a Diet Pepsi can purchased at Sam’s Club,
An affiliate of Wal-Mart from the start,
Where the 36 pack was sold.
The 'disgusting' blob,
-that Fred DeNegri's wife says she poured out of his Diet Pepsi can,
-was probably a gutted frog or toad.
DeNegri was grilling in his backyard tiki,
In Ormond Beach, Florida,
when he popped open a can of Diet Pepsi,
-took a big gulp and started gagging, his wife, Amy, said.
Little did they know some sort of an amphibian was dead?
He emptied out the can down a sink but something heavy remained inside.
Frog legs anyone?
Because the creature had surely died.
They brought the can to the garbage—they couldn’t wait.
His wife took over and shook the can over a paper plate,
-until something resembling 'pink linguini' slid out,
- followed by 'dark stuff, ' Amy DeNegri said.
What happened to Fred?
‘Dark matter’? Was this a physics experiment gone amuck that came about?
As far as Pepsi is concerned; they are keeping mum.
The DeNegri’s are seeking legal advice, which would seem fit.
As far as Pepsi goes, an out of court settlement; --they should hop to it.

9-3-09

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Its Ok

Its ok
Love is only meant for some
Im the rock
The shoulder you can cry on
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
Ill play it straight
While you laugh and drink and party all night long
Ill designate myself
To be the driver who takes you home
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
You can be pretty and tragic
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
You can be beautiful and fabulous
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
I cant reach the pain you feel
But Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
If you can hold on
Lose your fear
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
Falling down
Falling down
Where is your saint
To let you know youre not alone
To bring you peace
Help me be your friend your confidante
And keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down

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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 9

WHILE these affairs in distant places pass’d,
The various Iris Juno sends with haste,
To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought,
The secret shade of his great grandsire sought.
Retir’d alone she found the daring man, 5
And op’d her rosy lips, and thus began:
“What none of all the gods could grant thy vows,
That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.
Æneas, gone to seek th’ Arcadian prince,
Has left the Trojan camp without defense; 10
And, short of succors there, employs his pains
In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains.
Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs;
Unite thy forces, and attack their lines.”
This said, on equal wings she pois’d her weight, 15
And form’d a radiant rainbow in her flight.
The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes,
And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:
“Iris, the grace of heav’n, what pow’r divine
Has sent thee down, thro’ dusky clouds to shine? 20
See, they divide; immortal day appears,
And glitt’ring planets dancing in their spheres!
With joy, these happy omens I obey,
And follow to the war the god that leads the way.”
Thus having said, as by the brook he stood, 25
He scoop’d the water from the crystal flood;
Then with his hands the drops to heav’n he throws,
And loads the pow’rs above with offer’d vows.
Now march the bold confed’rates thro’ the plain,
Well hors’d, well clad; a rich and shining train. 30
Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear,
The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear.
In the main battle, with his flaming crest,
The mighty Turnus tow’rs above the rest.
Silent they move, majestically slow, 35
Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow.
The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far,
And the dark menace of the distant war.
Caicus from the rampire saw it rise,
Black’ning the fields, and thick’ning thro’ the skies. 40
Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:
“What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls?
Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears
And pointed darts! the Latian host appears.”
Thus warn’d, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend 45
The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend:
For their wise gen’ral, with foreseeing care,
Had charg’d them not to tempt the doubtful war,
Nor, tho’ provok’d, in open fields advance,
But close within their lines attend their chance. 50

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The House Of Dust: Part 04: 03: Palimpsest: A Deceitful Portrait

Well, as you say, we live for small horizons:
We move in crowds, we flow and talk together,
Seeing so many eyes and hands and faces,
So many mouths, and all with secret meanings,—
Yet know so little of them; only seeing
The small bright circle of our consciousness,
Beyond which lies the dark. Some few we know—
Or think we know. . . Once, on a sun-bright morning,
I walked in a certain hallway, trying to find
A certain door: I found one, tried it, opened,
And there in a spacious chamber, brightly lighted,
A hundred men played music, loudly, swiftly,
While one tall woman sent her voice above them
In powerful sweetness. . . .Closing then the door
I heard it die behind me, fade to whisper,—
And walked in a quiet hallway as before.
Just such a glimpse, as through that opened door,
Is all we know of those we call our friends. . . .
We hear a sudden music, see a playing
Of ordered thoughts—and all again is silence.
The music, we suppose, (as in ourselves)
Goes on forever there, behind shut doors,—
As it continues after our departure,
So, we divine, it played before we came . . .
What do you know of me, or I of you? . . .
Little enough. . . .We set these doors ajar
Only for chosen movements of the music:
This passage, (so I think—yet this is guesswork)
Will please him,—it is in a strain he fancies,—
More brilliant, though, than his; and while he likes it
He will be piqued . . . He looks at me bewildered
And thinks (to judge from self—this too is guesswork)

The music strangely subtle, deep in meaning,
Perplexed with implications; he suspects me
Of hidden riches, unexpected wisdom. . . .
Or else I let him hear a lyric passage,—
Simple and clear; and all the while he listens
I make pretence to think my doors are closed.
This too bewilders him. He eyes me sidelong
Wondering 'Is he such a fool as this?
Or only mocking?'—There I let it end. . . .
Sometimes, of course, and when we least suspect it—
When we pursue our thoughts with too much passion,
Talking with too great zeal—our doors fly open
Without intention; and the hungry watcher
Stares at the feast, carries away our secrets,
And laughs. . . .but this, for many counts, is seldom.
And for the most part we vouchsafe our friends,
Our lovers too, only such few clear notes

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